


evil is unspectacular

by peachyteabuck



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Degradation, Dehumanization, F/F, dom!Natasha, sub!Reader, switch!carol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25250545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyteabuck/pseuds/peachyteabuck
Summary: punishment administered by natasha and carol, a commission for @domromanoff
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Natasha Romanov/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	evil is unspectacular

Natasha turns to join her wife on the light grey, velvet couch, sitting next to Carol as she scrolls through various streaming platforms to find the right movie. If you had any say you’d suggest a rom-com – something lighthearted so you could keep the attention on you the entire time.

Unfortunately, you’re on punishment, so instead of sitting in their laps and eating popcorn from their hands and accepting kisses all over your body, you’re currently on the floor in front of them on your hands and knees with your back perfectly straight as Carol uses you as a footrest.

You’re facing the wall parallel to the open entrance to the kitchen, only able to track their coming and goings by listening carefully to each footstep, the sounds from the kitchen, their far-away giggles. It’s somewhat anxiety inducing to not know exactly what they’re doing, where they’re going – especially as they taunt you from the fancy furniture.

“Such a stupid little slut,” you hear Carol laugh during a lull in the movie after she spanked you, reveling in your high-pitched yelp. They’d gone through what you guess is half a bowl of popcorn (judging by the crunching and each of them loudly sucking on their fingers) by then, and while Natasha was content on waiting to start her berating until the annoyingly heterosexual white couple got together (despite your forced silence, they had chosen one of the romantic comedies the fire-headed woman loves to mock), Carol was never one to play by another dominant’s timeline.

Natasha just sighs, watching as your center tightens around nothing while they speak as if you weren’t there. “Babe, I thought we agreed to make her stew in her punishment until later.”

Carol just scoffs, leaning over once more to grope at your tits. “C’mon honey, you know I have a problem keeping my hands off of pretty little toys that are right in front of me.”

Natasha rolls her eyes but doesn’t stop her, allowing her eyes to drift from the large screen to the scene on the floor every so often as Carol continues to play with you. It’s incessant, like a curious child bullying a much younger one. She pulls at your hair, shoves three fingers so deep into your mouth you gag and your eyes water before shoving them just as deep into your pussy. Carol, as usual, finds a deep delight in executing your torture – in listening you your whimpers and moans and watching you attempt to keep your back perfectly straight as to not drop the bowl of snack foods that had been placed in the middle of your spine, balanced carefully as to assure its falling would be your fault and not Carol’s. In a desperate attempt not to collapse you clench your eyes shut, hoping to curb the sensory overload that would cause your demise.

Natasha, at least for now, is happy to watch. The movie’s long over now, an hour of teasing leaving you panting and shaking and clutching the plush carpet between your fingers. It’s grey, just like the couch, but a slightly deeper shade. Bought especially for the nights (and days) you find yourself at their feet (or under the table, or at the foot of their bed), it keeps _that_ particular crick in your knees from being too bad the next morning.

(It also goes really well with the rest of the furniture, too, but that wasn’t exactly the reason Natasha bought it and chose guaranteed next-day shipping the second she saw it on that fancy interior design website a year or so back that she browses when the workday is slow.)

Tonight is one of those nights where you think the imprints your hands and the lower halves of your legs will become a permanent part of a previously nonexistent pattern, a permanent reminder of-

Natasha breaks your train of thought as she speaks. “Drooling now, too, are we?” she whispers, cooing. When you finally reopen your eyes, you realize she’s right in front of you, scanning your face and watching to see if you’ll falter now that she’s close.

Luckily, you don’t, or else she’d _really_ have to punish you.

“It’s funny how a little time as a footrest makes even the worst girls behave, isn’t it?” She mumbles the question as her eyes square in on your empty mouth, on the spit covering your lips. Natasha does this whenever she’s thinking hard about something, especially when that “something” concerns you; her voice gets low as her brain becomes overrun with ideas on how to torture you during the rest of the night.

“ _Carol!_ ” Natasha snaps to get the other woman’s attention. The blonde immediately sits up a little straighter, her own focus on the two of you in front of her now broken. “Come lay in front of our dirty little girl…”

She immediately moves to lay in front of you, Natasha pulling Carol’s panties and sleep shorts off as she gets situated. Once her bottom half is bare, Natasha returns to the couch, watching as her pan unfolds.

“C’mon you little brat,” Natasha leans back against the cushions. “Remind us of how much of a slut you are.”

You gulp before leaning forward, your arms going around her legs to rest at her hips while you ass remains in the air. Hesitantly, your tongue and lips make contact with Carol’s dripping pussy. She moans just as you do, one of her strong hands tangling in your hair to push you closer.

“O- _oh!_ ” she cries, bucking her hips against your face. You flatten your tongue and move one hand back under her leg to tease at her entrance, gathering at the slick there before pushing your middle finger inside of her. You moan as she constricts around you, quickly adding your ring finger while your other hand splays across her panting stomach.

“You like that?” Natasha asks, sipping a glass of red wine you didn’t realize she had poured herself. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the bottle – it’s got one of those expensive-looking labels of the thousand-dollar wines Natasha loves to collect like little kids collect stamps. It means this is one of _those_ nights, where Natasha’s prepared to torture you until you either use your safe word or pass out – and not necessarily in that order. “You like it fucking Carol with your fingers and tongue?”

You insert a third finger before pulling away, stroking that special spot inside of Carol that makes her cry out. “Y-yes Daddy, I like making her feel good.”

“Good, good” she coos. “You like being used like a perfect little fucktoy don’t you?”

Your brain is near-fried, words having to force themselves to the tip of your tongue. “Y-yes Daddy, I love being used like a fucktoy.”

“Now,” Natasha sets her glass down once more, folding her legs and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “Eat our beautiful girlfriend out until she comes all over your beautiful face and soaks it.”

Without hesitation and without a smart quip that would earn you another set of sharp slaps against your already sore ass, you do as you are told. You angle your tongue perfectly against Carol’s clit, leaving sloppy kisses and nibbling as you crook your fingers to stroke that special spot inside of her that makes her nearly rip your hair from your scalp. The pain shoots like electricity down your spine, causing you moan against her soaked lips.

Carol comes with a guttural moan, whole body curling and trying to fight against you before slumping with a loud _thud_ as her limp body hits the floor. You allow her reprieve, then, as Natasha exhales with a contented sigh.

“So nice to see my two girls playing well together,” she coos, her words the only thing filling the room besides Carol’s languid pants and your desperate ones.

After a few moments, the woman on the floor with you collects herself enough to muster the ability to stand up and join Natasha on the couch. They giggle with each other for a moment, whispering as the blood rushing in your ears drowns out most of their words.

On occasion, your rabbit-like heartbeat allows you brief moments of silence – leaving you able to decipher whatever it is they’re saying.

_So cute…wet…feral…bitch in heat…fucktoy…freeuse…_

Somehow, all it does is make you wetter.

“Spread yourself for us, pet,” you can’t see either of them, but you guess Natasha is speaking based on the level in her voice and her apparent lack of fluster. “Let us see that glorious hole.”

You do as you’re told, reaching behind you to do as you’ve been instructed. Cold air hits the most sensitive part of you, making you gasp.

Natasha and Carol both coo at your reaction, the both of them talking down to you making you soak your thighs.

“I think she deserves something,” Carol tell Natasha. Despite not being able to see her, the breathiness in her voice tells you she’s still flushed, beautifully fucked out. It takes all of your minimal self-control not to moan at the mere _thought_ of seeing her. “Don’t you?”

Natasha _hmms_ , acting as if she’s only considering it. After a long pause, she finally speaks.

“I guess we can use the vibrator on her, give her cute little hole some relief.”

You nearly cry, grateful and desperate and willing to go through anything to feel _something_ inside of you.

You hear someone – _Carol, she’s always the one to do Natasha’s bidding in and outside of the bedroom_ – grab the thrusting vibrator from the special decorative box under the bed.

She returns wordlessly, turning it onto its highest setting and guides you hips to you can fuck back against it.

“O- _oh!_ ” you moan, face-down ass-up. “Oh _shit_ that feels so good!”

Carol laughs, smile wide as she kisses your spine. “You like that, baby? You like it when I fuck your pretty little pussy with this toy?”

Natasha cuts in, teasing you from her position on the couch. “Of course she does, babe, look at her.”

You’re dripping again, brain fried from pleasure and body unwilling to protect what little dignity you have left.

“Such a little slut,” Natasha sighs. “Such a nasty little whore.”

You reach your peak with a scream, pressing your face into same small carpet where the night began. It feels infinitely softer now that your whole body feels as if it’s on fire – the fabric hugging your cheeks as you pant and desperately attempt to catch your breath.

Natasha comes into view first, turning your face to the side so you can see her. “You took your punishment well, pet,” she tells you, moving sweaty hair from your forehead. “But now, the _real_ fun begins.”


End file.
